In Which Everything is Normal and Legal
by DinoDina
Summary: At least that's what Charlie, Percy and Oliver really, really, really want everyone to think. Oneshot written for QLFC.


**Team:** Wigtown Wanderers  
 **Position:** Beater 2  
 **Prompt:** Use the title of a story written by your Beater 1 for inspiration ("Just a Normal Christmas")  
 **Additional Prompts:** 6\. (object) broomstick, 12. (genre) family  
 **Words:** 2156

 **Thanks to Lynne and Carmen for betaing!**

"Charlie, where are you going?" his mum called after his retreating back. Getting no answer, she turned to Percy helplessly. "Perce?"

He shrugged, though the lie felt bitter.

He looked down at his plate and tried not to blush—he would, and she'd see through him, and it would be his and Charlie's heads… and Oliver's. He bit his lip and accepted the seconds his mum loaded onto his plate.

"Coming and going at all times of day and night," she continued. "Arthur, it's a wonder you haven't noticed!"

"He's old enough to be trusted, Molly," he said wearily.

Percy tuned out, then; this conversation had been repeated multiple times over the past few days, and he didn't need to listen to know that his mum was now blaming Charlie's absence on the ill mannerisms he seemed to have picked up in Romania.

"I know that!" His mum was contrite now—as contrite as she ever was—and would shortly proceed to explain that she had no _problem_ with Charlie's choice of job and lifestyle, but that it was painful for him to be so far.

Percy quietly continued emptying his plate. If he gave in to the sick feeling clawing its way up his throat, she'd immediately sense that something was wrong—the idea of one of her sons being full was absolutely foreign to Percy's mum, and she was likely to connect Percy's reluctance to eat to Charlie walking out at dinner… no, it was better to sit through it.

Percy stood up before she could notice he'd finished eating, deposited his plate in the sink, and left the way Charlie did, already hearing her yelling after him.

He hated lying to his mum. He let out a deep breath and leaned against the side of the house, tipping his head back and letting the mild winter wind ruffle his hair. There was no way for it to get messier, anyway, not with its natural curls and Oliver's current presence at the Burrow.

Giving the night sky one last look, Percy headed for the field beyond the Burrow, carefully walking through the tall grass—it hadn't snowed yet—until it thinned and he approached the forest. He lit his wand and entered, the thick canopy overhead blocking the stars from view.

"Charlie!" he called. He had to walk several more minutes before he heard rustling. "Charlie?"

"There you are!" Charlie emerged from behind a tree, grinning, his clothes already covered in dirt. He beckoned Percy closer. "You took your time."

"Just be happy I'm here at all." Percy scowled. "The least you could have done was finish dinner."

"I had to get back here." Charlie pulled Percy along with him. "You know they get antsy if we leave them alone for too long."

"I can walk by myself." Percy tugged his arm from Charlie's grasp and straightened his ruffled sleeve.

Charlie, simultaneously, called into the darkness: "Oliver, he's here!"

Percy's scowl softened as Oliver stepped through the trees, and he lowered his wand to avoid blinding Oliver as he moved in for a hug. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Figures you're nice to him," Charlie grumbled good-naturedly. "Come on."

Percy exchanged a look with Oliver but followed his brother nevertheless. They entered a clearing—Percy had been there several times before, but it had been completely transformed: the ground had been uneven, the trees had loomed threateningly over the clear ground, and… well, the largest difference was the sudden presence of seven dragons.

"I can't believe you're doing this."

"'We', Perce—" Charlie grinned "—you're involved, too."

"Don't I know it," he muttered grimly.

Charlie left him and Oliver at the edge of the clearing and ran over to the dragons, greeting them enthusiastically. Percy was surprised he didn't try to hug any of them. Then again, Charlie was a professional—as easy as it was to forget that sometimes.

"I'm going to try flying in front of all of them!" Charlie called over to them. "Stand by, but don't stun them unless it's absolutely necessary!"

Percy and Oliver got into position. He wasn't sure about Oliver, but Percy was nervous; unlike Charlie, _they_ weren't professionals. At the moment, the only thing he was sure of was that they were mad. Absolutely mad.

Charlie waved the broomstick at the dragons, showing it at all angles, keeping his appearance as non-threatening as possible. "This is a broomstick! Hey! Miranda, David: stop fooling around and listen to me… you want to play Quidditch, right?"

Percy fought the urge to burst out laughing. That, or close his eyes and wait for this nightmare to end.

"You use broomsticks to play Quidditch," Charlie continued. "Well… humans do. You guys would fly. Normally. Like you usually do. But I'm going to be flying on it—Robert, you _cannot_ set it on fire."

It had only been two dragons the previous night. Two dragons… he was fine with two dragons.

"Now, if we're going to get you guys to be playing Quidditch, I want to see if you can follow the basic commands." Charlie was silent for a second; Percy saw him gesture to one of the dragons. "Let's start with you, Doris."

He moved to the giant cage the dragons were freely walking about in, and before he knew it, Percy had thrown his hands up. "I can't do it. I'm out."

He swallowed. Tried to keep his breathing even. He knew this forest, could easily find his way out—now if only his legs would stop feeling like lead. There: Percy tore himself from the spot and stormed away, barely hearing Oliver and Charlie calling after him.

The field was in sight, and he could feel the Burrow beyond it. He just needed to cross it, get into bed, and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Percy was sure that he'd just unofficially handed in his resignation to Charlie: no more wild schemes of training dragons to play Quidditch. He wouldn't tell anyone—he was out of the game, but he wasn't a traitor.

His shoulders slumped. Wasn't he? He'd just walked out on Oliver and Charlie—possibly while they were in the company of dangerous dragons. Percy clenched his fists and forced himself to keep walking. He wasn't sure why he'd agreed to help Charlie in the first place. That had been his mistake.

"Percy!"

Speak of the devil. He'd expected Oliver—they were dating, after all. But Charlie was running up to him, still holding that damned broomstick.

He stopped and turned around; he owed Charlie some decency. Then it hit him. "You left Oliver alone!"

"Yes."

"But the dragons!"

"They're not dangerous," Charlie said with a grin.

"You're the one that said they get antsy if you leave them alone! Oliver—"

"Can handle himself. He's a big boy." Charlie let his defensive stance relax. "But… you okay?"

Percy crossed his arms. "Perfect."

"Talk to me. We can even head back home." He fell into step beside Percy. "Come on, what's bothering you?"

"Are you sure Oliver's okay back there?"

Charlie reached up and ruffled his hair; Percy let him—a mild falling-out wasn't enough to make him stop Charlie's life-long habits. "Of course he is. Besides, I wouldn't leave him in danger."

"Right." Percy ducked his head. "Sorry, I know. I'm just—never mind."

"No, you should probably tell me," Charlie said lightly. "I've never seen you storm out of somewhere."

"You're illegally training dragons to play Quidditch! Of course I'm storming out!"

Charlie's smile—the sparkle in his eyes—disappeared. "I didn't know you had a problem with it."

"I—well, neither did I, I guess. The legality's the least of my problems, and I can't believe I'm saying that." Percy fiddled with his glasses. "I mean… I thought this would be a normal Christmas! All of us back at the Burrow: mum nagging us about our relationships, trying to cut Bill's hair, trying to get you to move back to England. When you said you needed to talk to me, I thought it was about Christmas presents, but—it's mad, completely mad! Teaching dragons to play Quidditch? But then you said that they understand human speech better than other creatures, and that they love being outdoors, and how maybe this will help destigmatize them… and I don't know, I kind of forgot that this is _completely crazy_. You were so excited. Can you believe I had to talk Oliver into this?"

"You talked him into it?" Charlie stopped and stared—the spark was back. "I thought it was the other way around."

Percy blushed. "You're my brother, not his. I saw that it was important to you, and I wanted to help—but… seeing the dragons—all seven of them—it's too much. You were trying to explain to them what a broomstick is, for Merlin's sake! We're in over our heads."

"'We'?" Charlie laughed, though it sounded far more hollow than normally. "You're not still saying you're in this mess with us?

"Yes. I… Fine. I am. And it's not a mess." Percy smiled and let out a huff as his concerns, the feeling of guilt—for getting sucked into the scheme, for abandoning Charlie—falling away from his shoulders. "A bit… untraditional. And _weird_. Look, we can't do it on our own."

His eyes met Charlie's. "You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

Percy nodded. "We need Bill."

It was stupid to think that they would be able to get back into the Burrow undetected. Percy considered himself lucky that only Charlie had been captured by their mum—he'd shoved the broomstick at Percy in an attempt to find the evidence, and the object felt damning in his hands—but that unfortunately meant that he'd have to talk to Bill on his own. He could wait for Charlie, he supposed, but he was under no delusions that his mum would stop at just Charlie: it would be Bill and his too-long hair getting interrogated next, or Percy and his ability to say "No, thank you," when she complained about his weight and attempted to over-feed him.

He knocked at Bill's door and was relieved to hear a resounding "Come in!"

"Hey." Percy closed the door and made his way over to the desk, sitting on top of it when he saw that the chair was covered in books and clothes.

"Hey." Bill put aside the book he was reading to give Percy the full attention he always gave his siblings.

"You're technically in law enforcement," Percy began, "as a Curse-Breaker."

"And you're literally in law enforcement as personal assistant to the Minister." Bill narrowed his eyes suspiciously; Percy tried to forget that he'd have to look Minister Shacklebolt in the eyes after everything was over. "What's going on?"

"What would you do if I told you I'm participating in something illegal?"

"I'd check for the Imperius Curse and Polyjuice Potion." Bill sat up straight, assuming the commanding pose of the eldest brother.

"It's none of that." Percy bit his lip. He'd never been on this side of Bill's scrutiny. "I'm helping Charlie out, and he— _we_ —wanted to ask for your help. If you're not against mildly illegal activities."

"No promises. What exactly do you want me to agree to?"

"Charlie's trying to train dragons to play Quidditch. He's got a broomstick and everything. He can explain it better than I can, but—"

"And you're helping him?"

"And Oliver," Percy hastened to say, as if that would make everything better. "He's helping, too. And it's not so much active helping as it is just standing there. Being there for him."

Bill sighed, but Percy could see that he was being worn down. "And where exactly is this all happening?"

"The forest. The one by the field."

Bill's eyes widened. "That's where you've been running off to!"

Percy shrugged apologetically. Bill kept staring. Charlie was still downstairs, Oliver was still in the forest, and Percy was still holding the broom Charlie had shoved at him.

"This is mad."

"But?" Percy waited for Bill's answer but was met with silence. "Please? If only to watch it all fail?" He sighed and shook his head. "Don't actually agree to help just because you want Charlie to help. That's mean and horrible and… Look, we need you. If this is to succeed at all, we need—someone responsible, or—or… an older brother!"

Bill looked ready to answer, but the door opened before his mouth did and Charlie burst in. Their eyes met, and Percy felt oddly on the outside—like he'd felt when they were all little, like he didn't feel now; especially now that he was helping Charlie—until they looked at him, too.

"I'm in," Bill said at last, still looking slightly like he would regret it, but Percy suddenly felt much more confident in the undertaking. "Let's see those dragons."


End file.
